Between the Lines
by LiaLia15
Summary: Companion oneshots to My Life as Leia, because I couldn't let go of the characters yet. Updates pretty infrequent. Probably a good idea to read My Life as Leia first. (Most recent chapter: Two Teens in Denial Flirt and Call It Arguing)


**A/N: Hey buddies! So. . .My Life as Leia is done, and I'm really sad about it. And I thought, hey! If I miss the story, why not kinda continue it with oneshots! So that's what these are. The majority of them (if not all) will be centered on Han and Leia, and their developing relationship. They came a long way from the start, and I kinda wanted to focus in on their relationship for a bit. I've had this idea for a while. So yeah!**

**Updates will probably not be very often. But I have these little chapters kinda planned out, so there should be some scattered around here and there when I find time. **

**Enjoy this first one! It's set after Leia boards Han's ship, but before their disagreement. Which I'm gonna explain real quick. Han really was going to take Leia to Tatooine with him. But after that, he planned on taking her home. Leia got upset, because she wanted to stay with him and planet-hop, or stay on Tatooine—whichever worked better for her. So that's the tea. This oneshot happens before that. **

**Again: updates infrequent! Currently planing out a sequel for the distant future and also working on a new fic! A Spider-Man one! So that'll be different. Keep an eye out for that if you're into Marvel. **

**~•~**

Leia was still getting used to space travel, but she knew one thing for sure: the galaxy was a whole lot bigger than she realized.

So how the heck did one person suddenly make it seem so . . . _small_?

It had been a few days since Han had announced they were en route to Tatooine. Ever since then, things on the _Falcon _were noticeably less tense, but some odd sort of _heavy _atmosphere kept lingering in the air, like a piano about to drop on her head. The feeling made her antsy. Not like she wasn't always a little bit restless anyways. But this was different.

This was _so _different.

Princess Leia never claimed to be an expert on emotions, and she didn't now, either. Feelings were fleeting, temporary things. As long as they left her alone, she had no quarrel with them. And thus far in her life, that's how it had been. And always would be.

Or so she'd thought.

Sharing a cramped ship with Han and Chewbacca was starting to mess with her. It felt too _close. _Like she was always bumping into crates or tripping over pipes. Or . . . winding up in the same room as Han all the time. Which was absolutely, completely, _totally _accidental. For sure.

Right?

It's not like she _tried _to wander into the cockpit at the same time as Han. How was _she _supposed to know where he was all the time? She wasn't following him, that's for sure. In fact, his personality tended to put her in a bad mood. Han was the cockiest, most arrogant person she'd ever met. And he was always going above and beyond to make her angry, because it brought him some inexplicable pleasure. The _nerve. _

It was fine, though. She didn't need him.

(Well, she needed him to get her to Tatooine, but that was it.)

As soon as they landed, she planned to ditch Han—and his sorry excuse for a ship—and _finally _get that freedom she'd been wanting for so long. And once that happened, Han would be irrelevant. Just a little blip on her radar. Not anything to worry about or think about.

Too bad she couldn't _stop _thinking about him.

_That's _where the dreaded feelings came in.

She needed to be careful. Couldn't let herself get carried away or knocked off her feet by his obvious and pathetic attempts at charm. She was a princess. There were _laws_. No matter what she was feeling about this boy, those emotions had to be grabbed by the throat and tossed into the distant sea of her mind. Gone forever. It was just too risky.

Leia wasn't stupid. Deep down, she was aware of this appalling _crush _that had somehow developed in the past few days. And she _hated _it. _Loathed_ it, to be honest. Because she knew Han was nothing but a shallow, single-minded space pirate that didn't care about her at all. Cuteness be darned, he was bad for her. Everything about him was bad. A bad influence, a bad citizen, a bad _pilot—_

In other words, her crush was unjustified and should therefore be banished from her thoughts. Being around Han just made her mad, anyway. They couldn't seem to hold a civil conversation for more than two minutes, before it spiraled into a spiteful argument. Usually a pointless one, too. And once she got going . . . well, it could only get worse from there. Her temper was unmatched when it came to defending her dignity (and, of course, her need to be right, all the time). Her parents could attest to that.

But the cargo hold was just so _boring. _Crates, metal, and the constant rumble of the engine. There was nothing to do, nothing to look at. Her datapad could only entertain her so long, after all. There was one option for a boredom cure, and it was the last thing she wanted to do at the moment.

Interact.

Something was bound to go wrong, but Leia couldn't stay where she was for a moment longer. That would be even worse than socializing with Han. She felt like the ship's walls were closing in on her, slowly boxing her in.

Leia shuddered, hopping off the pile of crates she'd been sitting on. She was only a _little _hesitant to leave the room, because naturally her brain switched to "Think About Everything That Could Go Wrong" mode, but she might be able to work something out. Maybe she wouldn't even have to _talk _to Han. She could just . . . sit kind of nearby.

_Wait, EW—_

She would _not _sit nearby. The only reason she was heading to the cockpit was to be around another human. Alderaan was lonely enough, and that was when she _was _around people. Han's company wasn't exactly ideal, but she wasn't seeing any other ways to fix her problem.

When Leia reached the cockpit, she paused just outside and poked her head in. Sure enough, Han was perched where he always was, feet up on the control board and arms crossed lazily behind his head. Hyperspace swirled beyond the window, its vibrant cerulean light tinting everything inside the cockpit a faded blue. Chewie was apparently off attending to some other copilot duties, because Han was the lone occupant. That wasn't good. If she went in there, it would be . . . _just them. _Alone. By themselves.

She bit her lip, staring at the ground so she wouldn't have to look at Han (this was starting to feel slightly stalker-ish). This was stupid. She shouldn't go in there. Her and Han? Alone in a small space? With an equation like _that_, best case scenario was the whole ship veering off course and plummeting into a black hole. _Best _case scenario.

"You just gonna stand there, or what?"

Leia just about jumped out of her skin. How did he know she was there? Were there some hidden mirrors or . . . ?

Oh well. No point in staying quiet anymore. And now she was forced to talk to him.

Somehow, she wasn't too mad about it, but Leia tried to ignore that fact.

She'd let Han speak first, and maybe she could find a way to reply without causing a civil war in the cockpit. But he'd better hurry up, because things were gonna get awkward fast.

Leia plopped down in the copliot's seat, aimlessly glancing around.

_What are we supposed to talk about? The ship? The flight? No that's dumb. Try something more profound, like . . . oh, forget this. He probably forgot I'm even—_

"Something on your mind?"

Leia jolted at his voice. "What?"

"You're not usually this quiet."

"How do you know? We barely know each other."

"We could change that." His voice was teasing. Challenging. That kind of remark usually started a fire down inside her, forcing her to shoot back a comment of her own. But this time, she resisted the bait.

"I'd rather not."

"You'd 'rather not'? Listen, Princess. If we're gonna get along, you gotta learn how'ta talk."

"I _know _how to talk, thank you very much. _Your _speech habits, on the other hand, could use some work."

Han laughed in disbelief, one hand to his forehead. "Wow, you really _are _a princess, aren't you?"

"What's _that _supposed to mean?"

"Normal people don't say stuff like that. You sound too . . . formal."

_Formal?_

"Well—" Leia considered that. Maybe she _did _sound kind of sophisticated, but she'd grown up hearing everyone talk that way, so obviously that's the example she followed. But Leia had to admit, she hadn't even realized it until now.

"Aren't you supposed to be a rebel or somethin'?" Han asked, stretching in his chair. "Runaway and all that."

"I don't—"

"D'you wanna blend in out here?"

Leia faltered, searching for some kind of witty reply and coming up with nothing. What kind of a question was that, anyway? Obviously she wanted to blend in, but the implications of Han's words seemed a little deeper than that. Like she should be considering some hidden meaning. Or. . .

_Oh, whatever._

"Yes," she finally answered.

"Yeah," Han corrected.

"What?"

"You don't say 'yes', you say '_yeah_'. Understand?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize this was a grammar lesson—"

"It's not. You've had too many of those. This an _un_-grammar lesson. Like I said, if you wanna blend in, you gotta learn how to talk like everyone else."

"I've never heard of anything so stu—"

"Is it stupid?" Han raised an eyebrow. "If you keep talking with your little princess voice, someone's gonna figure out you're different. Different is bad. You wanna stay alive?"

"Very much."

"Then you'll follow my rules from now on."

Leia _really _didn't like the sound of that. She could barely get herself to follow her _own _rules, let alone Han's new ones. He had a point—she did have something of an accent. . .even though that probably wasn't the right word for it. Her vocabulary was just more advanced than his. Or at least that's what she kept telling herself. Either way, a certain tone just attached itself to her voice sometimes, and she didn't even realize it. Definitely not her fault. She could talk space pirate-y. She was gonna show _him—_

"So what then, I'm supposed to use more _contractions_?" Leia exaggerated, leaning forward and feigning interest. "Maybe throw in a few swear words? Yell and smack stuff, like you?"

"I don't—" Han started to protest, but apparently thought better of it. "Look, it's not that hard. Just. . .keep your words short. And try not to sound like you're better than everyone else."

"What do you mean?"

"Ya know—that _royal _thing you do."

Genuinely confused, Leia prodded, "What _thing_? There's no thing."

"Ah, never mind. You wouldn't notice it anyway. Just work on it, will you? Oh and—you might wanna change that outfit of yours."

Suddenly self conscious, Leia looked down at her tunic and leggings, surveying them in bewilderment. "Why? What's wrong with my outfit?"

"It's too. . .neat."

"_What_?"

"You heard me, Princess. With that on, you'll stick out like bantha in a cantina."

"A what? In a—_what_?"

Chuckling with amusement, Han stood up and stretched his arms above his head for a moment, giving the window a quick glance. Then he headed for the door and motioned for Leia to follow.

"C'mon, Your Worship. I've got an idea."

Leia didn't know whether she should be offended or not, since it kind of sounded like Han was insulting her. . .but in a helpful way? Figures that he'd find some loophole through standard guidelines of human communication.

She followed him down the hall and into the main hold, where he pushed her down onto the couch.

"Wait there," he ordered lightly, disappearing through another doorway. She could hear his footsteps getting farther and farther away, until they stopped altogether. Leia leaned back on the worn, circular seat. Her shoulders felt weird. Maybe she'd bumped them or something on the way in—

_Wait._

Han had sort of shoved her down to a sitting position, but it wasn't rough at all. More like gentle pressure on her shoulders for a few seconds—she'd sat down entirely on her own. But those few seconds had apparently been enough for her body to over analyze what was happening, because her shoulders felt. . .warm. And tingly.

Leia crossed her arms across her chest and scratched furiously at her shoulders, begging the weird feeling to go away. She shivered, noticing the goosebumps traveling down her arms. Was it cold in here? Or hot? Or—something?

Just as the princess was about to slam her shoulders one by one into the wall, Han came back into the main hold, carrying something that looked like fabric.

"What's that?" Leia asked, an involuntary tone of suspicion creeping into the question.

"The answer to your problems, that's what. Put this on." Han tossed his bundle at her, and she barely caught it because her shoulders were still being very distracting. It was like all she could feel were his hands on—

_STOP._

Leia unfolded the fabric and realized it was actually a shirt. One of _Han's _shirts. And she was holding it.

In her hands.

His _shirt_.

_Oh my gosh—_

"Agh!" Leia threw it back at him, wiping her hands on her tunic like they were contaminated. "That's—I can't—_ew_!"

Han, who apparently found the whole scene quite hysterical, was doubling over with laughter. And even though it made him look twice as attractive, Leia found herself getting angry.

_Don't do it._

And angrier.

Then Han said, "The look on your face! Priceless."

_That's it—!_

She gave up trying to be calm and felt her fists curling into tight balls, her fingernails digging into her palms. Her face felt hot. Enraged. Suddenly she took one giant step forward.

Han, still laughing, made a final comment that officially ripped Leia's patience in half.

"Wow, Your Highness. Didn't realize my clothes were too _peasant-like _for you. Guess you're too much of a princess to—"

Something like a growl escaped Leia's mouth, and before she knew what was happening, she'd launched herself and Han and slapped him straight across the face. Time froze after that, with Han staring at her, his mouth hanging open in astonishment. When the full realization sunk in, Leia knew her face was heating up again.

_What did you do THAT for?! Of all the stupid, reckless, idiotic, impatient things to do! He hates you. Oh gods, he hates you. Look at what you did. Now you'll never get to Tatooine. _

Rather than apologizing or stepping back—or quitting when she _really _should've—Leia leaned even closer and said, "What about now? Still too much of a _princess_?"

Han still hadn't come up with a coherent reply, and Leia had never been prouder of herself. Sure, she'd just outright smacked a guy in the face for being obnoxious, but that's what happened when she got pushed to her limit. There was only so much taunting she could handle at this point. Plus, as long as she stayed mad at Han, she wouldn't be tempted to hang around him or speak to him.

_Goodbye feelings, hello freedom!_

"I take it back," Han finally said, still watching Leia with a curious expression. There was only the faintest of red marks on his left cheek where Leia had hit him, so obviously the impact hadn't been too bad. Han didn't look hurt. If anything, he looked impressed. Bordering respect.

"Thanks."

Han ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up even worse than it already did.

"You didn't let me finish," he said.

Leia eyed him skeptically. "What?"

"The shirt? It's a disguise. I wasn't _trying _to make you freak out, Princess. It'll help you blend in when we land."

"Oh."

That made a lot more sense, now that she thought about it. And it was kind of a nice gesture, too. Him wanting to help her and all that. So maybe she had overreacted a little bit. . .

_Whoa, let's not go all heart-eyes again. Still not friends. Never friends. Get it through your head._

Their conversation ended awkwardly, and Leia took the shirt back and put it on in the cargo hold. It was gray, with three buttons at the top, baggy and oversized, hanging down to her knees (which was weird because—okay, Han wasn't _that _much taller than her, come on). The sleeves were long, too, but she kind of liked the way they flopped around when she walked.

Since there weren't any mirrors around, Leia assumed she looked pretty frumpy, which would annoy the heck out of her parents, especially since she was going to be in public. But there was this little nudging feeling in the back of her head.

It said, _you like it._

And there really was no point in denying it. Leia was wearing one of Han's shirts, and she liked it. A lot, actually. Of course, he'd never get the satisfaction of knowing that fact, but it made her smile. Denial was fun and all, but maybe she ought to be friendly. She could avoid feelings without being rude, right?

After all, there was no rule about being _friends _with space pirates. She would just have to be careful and block out any accidental romantic feelings. That would be easy.

Totally easy.

For sure.

_Right?_


End file.
